


Journal

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Loves Stiles, Hunters, Hurt Derek, M/M, Stiles Helps Derek, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and the pack go off to fight the big, bad hunters. Stiles is left alone in the loft. His mind wanders... and he sees if Derek has anything interesting lying around that he could entertain himself with.</p>
<p>... Until he finds a small rough leather book with hand-written pages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journal

Stiles was bored. The pack left him at Derek’s again. Sometimes he hated not being a werewolf. He would ask Derek for the bite, actually, if he wasn’t so damn scared that he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Right, control. the ‘self’ variety, actually. As in, what Stiles doesn’t have as he rifles through Derek’s loft. Why? Oh, you know, reasons.

Derek, unsurprisingly, doesn’t have a whole lot of stuff. It is kind of sad, really. Stiles wishes he could go get some random things from the store to put on some of the empty shelves and in the emptier drawers to make the loft look, you know, lived-in.

What it lacked in looks, it made up for in smell. Apparently. Stiles had never noticed before. The smell of Derek’s bed. Of the few clothes hanging in his closet (dark t-shirts, jeans, a few grey henley’s, and a leather jacket). Of the couch across the room. Of the books that Derek ran his fingers over. They all smelled… the same? How was Stiles picking up on this? He had never credited his nose with an overabundance of olfactory prowess before.

So logically, he threw caution to the wind and buried his face in Derek’s pillow. The smell was… well it was not something that was inherently describable. There was a hint of vanilla. But that particular odor was drowned in the smell of aged leather and evergreens. Intermingled throughout was the smell of some kind of musk, not overpowering, but enough to tingle insides of Stiles’ nose.

Whatever the smell was, Stiles liked it. He spent the next thirty minutes moving from thing to thing in the apartment, burying his face in it. He even pulled Derek’s leather jacket off the hangar and, with a quick glance at the door to make sure no one was there watching and/or judging him, slipped it over his shoulders. He pulled the liner up to his nose and drank deep. It was the smell of Derek. It permeated the loft, and left Stiles a little weak in the knees.

Aware of the effect it was having on him, Stiles logically tried to get away from Derek’s bed. He had imagined for so long actually touching it, being in it, wrapping his knuckles around the sheets as Derek ground against him. Now that he was in it, Stiles realized that it was messing with his mind, among other things.

Stiles went to the kitchen to clear his mind. The lack of Derek’s bed in the immediate proximity might help with that. And it did, sort of. So Stiles continued his quest of curiosity through the hidden areas of Derek’s loft.

He was opening one drawer of apparently random things, when he came across a small book. It was bound in leather, with no discernible title or author on the binding or on the cover. It was rough to the touch, and a string bound the cover flap to the back of the book. The string was perfectly wrapped, no overlapping or twisting, and was carefully tucked in through itself on the front of the book.

Stiles was curious and had no shame. So he opened it.

It was a journal. It was Derek’s journal. Stiles felt like he struck gold. Until he realized that the dates went back almost ten years. Before the fire that killed his family. It was only a this point that Stiles felt like he had something akin to shame coursing through his veins.

So he turned the pages, effectively hiding that part of the book. He looked through the most recent parts, and watched as the dates of entry grew further and further apart, until there was nearly a year or more in between them.

And Derek started each entry with “dear diary…" Stiles was hopelessly in love with Derek anyway, so of course he found it adorable. He froze. One of the entries had his name in it. Did he want to read it? Who was he kidding? Of course he did.

*  
August 20th, 2013

Dear Diary,

I have no idea what I am doing. I really just don’t. I can’t seem to keep myself from driving everyone away. When Erica and Boyd left, I told myself i would be better. I would be stronger. That I would be the alpha that I was meant to be. To follow in my mom’s footsteps, my sister’s. But I can’t. I can’t even keep my own pack around me. The only one who manages not to haul ass is Scott. Well, and his friend Stiles. Today I helped him with a tattoo. It was an awful experience. The kid passed out. I got flashbacks to when I got my triskelion. He lasted longer than I did. I have a feeling about him, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I think he is going to be important this year. He is much stronger than I was at that age.

And his friend, Stiles. If there was one person I had literally no idea about, it is that kid. He is hyperactive and has a tendency to flail for no reason, but I can’t shake him from my mind. Especially after today. It makes me… uneasy. I know he is fiercely loyal to Scott. But there is something else there. His heartbeat. It picks up when I am near him. And I have seen him stare at my lips. His smell is stronger than anyone I have met. I can smell him before he walks into a room. And if he touches me, I can’t get the smell out of my skin for days.

He winked at me today. Probably just some kind of sarcasm. I don’t know what to think.

Until next time. -DH

Stiles looked up from the page, his heart slamming away in his chest. He feels dirty, like he was watching something happen through another person’s window. It felt wrong. But then why was his heart stammering in his chest? Why did his face suddenly feel hot? Oh, right. Because Derek Hale thinks about him. It was enough to make Stiles swallow. Hard. He suddenly felt guilty about lying in the poor Alpha’s bed.

So he closed the journal and set it at the opposite end of the table and moved to the chair at the other end. He let his head fall forward into his arms. How could Derek feel the same way? The guy has hated me since we first met… Stiles’ thought trailed off. He literally jumped out of his chair, knocking it over in the process, as he scrambled around the table for the journal. Too impatient to sit, he stood there, thumbing through the pages until he got to the right entry.

*  
August 17th, 2011

I hate being back. I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. The house is a disaster. I was wrong, there is no hope for this place. I can still smell the death in it.

It is happening again. Someone else is bitten. I can feel it. I need to find them and help them. If they can’t be helped, then I need to keep them from hurting anyone.

It chilled Stiles to hear the words said in his mind by Derek’s voice.

Laura was here. Why haven’t I found her yet? She said she had a reason for coming back here. I don’t know what it was. I need to find her. She is all I have left.

*  
August 21st, 2011.

I found Laura today. Something killed her. They cut her in half, and I only found part of her. I buried her behind the house. It took me three days. I don’t think I will ever feel whole again. I have no one. I am going to find whoever did this and make them pay.

*  
August 23rd, 2011.

I saw him today. The one who was bitten. I heard his heartbeat as he walked through the woods. He is too old. He will never be able to control it. He needs my help. Not sure if I can trust him, or his friend. Scott is his name. Scott McCall. His friend is Stilinski. The Sheriff’s son. I can’t be sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Everyone calls him ‘Stiles’ but that isn’t his real first name. He looked at me weird when I saw them today, like I was dead. I guess now, I am. But it was strange. I saw something waver in his eyes. I think he knows who I am. But what did I see? Empathy? How does he know what I have been through? Whatever, it wasn’t important. I still can’t tell much from peoples’ looks. His scent, though. I have never smelled anything like it. It took everything in my power not to scent the trees he was standing near. No human smell is ever that strong.

I need to know more. Until next time. -DH

Stiles nearly dropped the book. He was leaned over the table, resting on his elbows, feet fidgeting angrily underneath him. Even then, Derek had seen something in him. Were they kin? Why? Because they had both lost family? It didn’t make any sense. He remembered how he felt that day. Derek scared him. Terrified him, actually. The way he came stomping through the woods silently and watched him and Scott from afar for a few minutes before saying anything. It was haunting. But he couldn’t take his eyes away, because he knew who Derek was. He remembered feeling a surge of sadness at the realization of that. But it was quickly replaced by fear.

Stiles decided to continue reading. He was hooked at this point. He had to know.

*  
September 1st, 2011.

I will never stop hating Kate Argent. I didn’t think that I would see her again, after what she did. But she shot me. She mistook me for the alpha. I was almost grateful for it. I belong with my family. Everything here just brings more pain. More anger.

As strange as it sounds, and as much as I hate to admit it, Stiles saved my life today. He kept me from slipping away. I hated him for it. But he cares. I don’t know why, but he cares. About Scott, about his family, about me. That last part I couldn’t explain. But he looked more pained than I felt when he held that saw against my skin. And when he hit me, I don’t know how, but it brought me back instantly. Usually when wolfsbane gets too close to your heart, you black out, and begin to shut down from the inside out. I don’t know why, but his touch… It brought me back. Looking up and seeing his face, I don’t know what was going through my mind.

I don’t know what to think anymore.

Until next time. -DH

Stiles too, was wondering what he should be thinking. He wasn’t even all that important in that whole sequence of events. Scott was the hero. Scott was Batman. He was the one who brought the bullet, who saved Derek. Not Stiles. Stiles was just the messenger. The notion made his heart do somersaults in his chest. But it also tightened his stomach.

He had to know more. He decided to flip to later in the journal, to the night he found Erica.

*  
September 20th, 2013.

Erica. They had her. They tortured her, put her in a cell with other werewolves and kept her from changing. When they finally allowed it, they forced her to fight Boyd. And Cora.

Cora is alive.

Stiles could feel the happiness pouring through the page. He ran his hand along the words, hoping to catch the ghost of that emotion as he did so.

Cora, Boyd, Erica. They are okay. I need to be a better alpha. I don’t want any of them to get hurt. Not ever again. I have to protect them. Scott. I can trust Scott. His ferocity is matched only by his compassion. I think he is meant to be a True One. I can’t be sure.

Stiles is surprised that he is mentioned in the entry at all, given how that night unfolded.

I kept Stiles at the loft with Peter. That was a mistake. I was worried the entire time. Peter is not to be trifled with. Stiles is too trusting. I saw the way he looked at me earlier. I couldn’t shake that look. He trusts me too much. I don’t even trust myself. It was all I could do to keep him at the loft, when I just wanted him at my side. But I have to protect him. He is not a werewolf. But he is perfect that way. I…

Stiles wished Derek would have finished the sentence. But he continues nonetheless.

Tonight was a victory, of sorts. I am happier than I have been in a long time.

Until Next Time. -DH

He couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that Derek still didn’t know what to make of him. But he definitely knew that Derek was happy that night. He had found his kid sister, who he thought was dead, and Erica. And Boyd. If Derek were around, he would have hugged the brooding werewolf, just to show that he cared.

Stiles decided he only had the heart to read one more. He already felt like he needed to shower the shame off of himself from invading Derek’s privacy like that. But what the hell, he was already in. He decided to find the last entry. It was from yesterday.

*  
October 15th, 2013.

Something worse than the alphas is at work here. I know it. Well, Stiles figured it out. With Lydia. Those two are unstoppable. He told me about this ‘darach’ character, some kind of druid serial killer that is making sacrifices. Random people keep going missing, and turn up dead. Even the alphas aren’t immune to it. Lydia told me that, while heading to a cross-country meet, it tried to poison Scott, Isaac, Boyd, Ethan, all of them with wolfsbane.

I need to keep Scott and my pack close. I can’t lose them. Any of them. It that happens I will lose myself, and I have come so far since the fire.

I need to keep Stiles close too. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to him. Losing him would… There would be no coming back from it. I realize it now. Why he is so important to me. I love him. I don’t know why or how it happened. But somehow, he managed to slip past my defenses. I couldn’t keep him out if I wanted to. I wish he felt the same way. I want to tell him. I get so close each time. And each time I lose courage. Maybe one day I will grow some balls and tell him.

I figured out why he is inside my head. It turns out, he is my mate. I think on some level, I have known since the day I met him. They say it can take years for a mate-bond to form. That it can do so without either partner knowing. And then it just happens. The connection is made. And it snaps taught. Apparently once this happens, each partner’s mind becomes as much a home to the other as reality does. Eventually, when it gets strong enough, each partner can feed energy off of the other, and when separated, the bond makes sure that each knows where the other is. Smells are stronger, eyesight better, hearing more acute. And if both are werewolves, mutual anchorship occurs.

Erica keeps telling me that if I don’t say anything, someone else will snap him up. Maybe I should listen to her. Because the thing is, Stiles is already my anchor.

I need to think about this.

Until next time. -DH

Stiles was dumbfounded. His mouth was stuck halfway open, and a million thoughts were racing through his head. His heart slammed away in his chest, pushing raw heat out towards his limbs. His breathing was quick, and he felt the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. He was so not prepared for this. How could he be Derek’s mate? how is that even possible? Was he freaking out about this, or the fact that Derek never told him, or anyone, actually. Except Erica? Great. Stiles can die of embarrassment then. Because if Erica knows, then you can bet that so does Boyd.

Stiles closes the journal with a finality and wills himself to not feel anything. He lets it sit on the table in front of him, his traitor heart leaping in his chest.

He knew that he was hopelessly in love with Derek. Scott knew it too. Of course Scott knew. Stiles couldn’t keep anything a secret from him. So that meant that Allison knew, and therefore, Lydia. Stiles felt like his insides were tying self-tightening knots as his panicky mind raked through the weird informational web his friends all seemed to share.

He dug his nails into the table, willing his pulse to slow down. Just as he got it under control, Derek’s alarm went off. Stiles fell out of the chair he was sitting in.

The metal door slammed open, and in staggered Boyd and Isaac supporting a limp Derek between them. Scott followed behind, Allison supporting him. He was limping. So the fight had not gone so well. Excellent. Just what Stiles needed. His panic threatened to overrule his stomach’s ability to hold its contents.

Stiles jumped to his feet, rushing to Derek.

"What happened? Is he okay?" Stiles didn’t notice that not only could he hear his own heart beating, he could hear Derek’s too. It was faint, but it was there.

"Yeah, yeah." Isaac said too-nonchalantly. “He will need some time, though. Those hunters are mean sons of bitches."

"Yeah, well, so were we." Erica was busy wiping blood off of her still-extended claws. Her golden eyes were fading. Stiles hadn’t seen her walk in.

"What happened to him?" Stiles still couldn’t believe that no one had actually told him yet. He chanced a glance ad Scott and Allison, on the couch. Scott was conscious, but favoring his left leg as Allison took a look at it. Seeing his friend conscious with no immediate problems eased his conscience enough to worry over Derek.

"They hit us with some kind of booby trap. Some kind of wolfsbane packed explosives, a shaped charge, I think. Lots of shrapnel. Hurt like hell. Derek caught the brunt of it. He kind of threw us behind him as it went off." Boyd was unusually loquacious. It made Stiles nervous.

That was when he noticed that Derek’s clothes were essentially tatters. His body was covered with a huge assortment of wounds, some of which were small and looked peppered-on, while others were deep gashes and gouges, made by some kind of weapons.

"Before he went down, Derek had taken out three of them. the other two, by Isaac and Erica. Scott caught a knife to the knee from one, and Allison took him out and the other two with her bow."

Erica took over. “By the time it was all said and done, we had enough of the bullets and wolfsbane powder to heal the most fatal of Derek’s wounds. The rest of us were lucky." She eyed Boyd. He shot a look right back. Something passed between them.

Stiles held back a yell. “There is something you aren’t telling me." It wasn’t a question. Boyd and Erica looked at each other. Isaac’s eyes joined the party as well. Stiles could feel them all grow tense. Scott even managed to look over from where Allison was flaming wolfsbane to apply to an injury on his knee.

Erica stammered. “Stiles. Before the bomb went off, The one in charge. She… She told us she had you. That her best hunters had you somewhere, and if we didn’t die, you would."

Stiles was putting the pieces together. “So Derek charged them?"

Isaac nodded his head, staring at the semi-conscious alpha on the table. “Didn’t even let her finish. All she said was ‘we killed the boy’ before Derek was halfway across the room. We went after him, but when he triggered the trip line on the charge, he shoved us all out of the way. Stiles, he thought you were dead."

The punch of that statement hit him square in the gut. Especially after he had spent the majority of the evening inside Derek’s thoughts. He had to sit back on the chair he had fallen out of earlier. He stared at Derek.

"Are you sure he will be fine?" He asked no one in particular. It was Allison that answered. “Yeah. I treated all his wounds as best as I could. At the very least, he doesn’t have any wolfsbane coursing through his veins or anything anymore."

"When will he wake up?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." She sounded resigned. exhausted. Scott was resting a head on her shoulder.

One by one, they slowly filed out. First Isaac, with Allison and Scott. Next followed Boyd and Erica. Eventually Stiles was left alone with Derek’s unconscious form, lying on the table. Stiles resisted the urge to touch the alpha.

Stiles really hates that he has zero self-control. He places his palms gingerly over the alpha’s thick forearm, willing the werewolf to wake up.

A heartbeat flutters in his ears. It is the first time that Stiles’ realizes that it isn’t his own. He reaches over to Derek’s head and runs a finger along his jawline. Derek’s eyes stir.

Stiles nearly jumps out of his chair. Derek just stares at him with wide eyes.

"Stiles." Derek blinks.

"Derek…" Stiles can’t escape the wave of emotion that washes over him.

"I thought… I thought they killed you." He reaches a hand up to Stiles’ cheek. “There were so many things I wanted to sa—"

Stiles cut him off. “I know, Der. I know." He squeezed the werewolf’s arm, trying to convey all that he could through that one simple touch. Derek’s eyes became glassed over. He pulled Stiles close to him, and Stiles heard him suppress a sob. It was heartbreaking.

"I thought I had lost you." Derek whispered through broken, quiet sobs. Stiles didn’t respond, didn’t know how to approach it.

"You didn’t, though."

"Stiles, there is something," Derek tried to calm himself down. “There is something I need to say…"

Stiles shook his head as the werewolf released him slightly. “Derek. I know. I read your journal. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was just looking around and I—" Derek pulled him in and attacked his lips, cutting his self-defense speech short. The kiss was desperate, needing. Derek’s tongue slipped by Stiles’, and they sank into it. Stiles pulled back as Derek lightly worried over his bottom lip.

"Stiles, how far did you get?" Silly Derek assumed that Stiles read it chronologically.

"Far enough to know that you are going to be stuck with me for a very long time." Stiles smiled gently at the alpha. Derek stared into his eyes, and reached down, interlacing his fingers with Stiles. He pulled him in for another kiss.

Stiles is definitely going to snoop around here more often…

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out to be a little longer than i expected, and a little angsty/drabbly at the same time? Not sure how that worked. been a long day. i needed something stupid and happy. if you read it, I hope you liked it.
> 
> Check out the rest of my stuff at watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com.


End file.
